Gothic Lolita
by RavynJaganshi
Summary: Hannibal is 25 and living alone.  He gets called in by an orphanage and he adopts a 16 year old girl.  Ooh, what will happen?  Even I don't know yet!  Let's read!  Rated T for possible romance and language later.
1. Doll

"Thank you for coming today, Doctor."

"My pleasure. You said that you considered my offer?"

"Yes. You had specified that you wanted an older child if you were to consider adoption, correct?" The woman asked in her sickeningly sweet voice.

"I did."

"Well, a girl has been living here for a while and she's just healed enough or it to be acceptable to ask someone to adopt her. We were wondering if you would like to see her."

"Tell me about her, if you would."

"She's 16, about 5'5", and too skinny for her own good, but healthy otherwise."

"I mean about her past." The doctor corrected patiently.

"Well... she doesn't know. We sent her through a lie detector, but she has no idea. She was obviously traumatized by whoever was caring for her before. She has no name, just "girl." Besides that, we don't know anything. We're just trying to get them out of here. There are too many."

"I see. So I am allowed to see her before I consider?"

"Of, course, Doctor Lecter."

Ms. Darine Darley led Lecter down a hall with children in small rooms with glass panes so they could be seen. It reminded him of the horrible prisons he had seen as a child. Now 25, he was far beyond what he had been then. He looked at the children with pity, nothing more, until he and Darley stopped in front of one of the rooms. There was a young girl with long, thick black hair, porcelain skin, and piercing blue-green eyes. She was dressed in a white blouse, black blazer, and black skirt. She was sitting in front of a typewriter on a rosewood desk, paying no attention to the people passing by.

"This is Girl. We talked to her about you visiting, so she's expecting you if you'd like to talk to her." She said.

"If she would like, I would be pleased to oblige." the doctor replied. Then, Darley spoke to the girl.

"Girl, you know the drill. Dr. Lecter will be coming in in a moment."

Girl nodded barely, acknowledging Darley's words, but she was too absorbed in her writing to do much more. After obviously finishing a sentence, Girl stood and walked over to the bed. She sat on her hands and nodded again before Dr. Lecter was let in.

"Good day, Doctor." She said, her voice sounding scripted and unenthusiastic, though her voice was a mellow soprano.

"Good day." The man replied, putting out his hand. Girl just stared.

"I expect they didn't tell you, did they? I'm not allowed to do that. I've hurt too many people doing that."

"How so?"

"Again, I'm not allowed to do that. If you should adopt me, I may tell you. Or you could ask Darley. She may not tell you, though. Heaven forbid this place look bad."

"Of course. So, you truly remember nothing?"

"Only that there was nothing worth remembering." Girl said shortly.

"I don't believe you."

"I never said you had to. I'm just telling you what I know." The man thought for a moment.

"If I adopt you, will you run away again?"

"What makes you think I ran away?"

"What teenager honestly gets dumped on their own? Not at your age. You're old enough to fight back."

"That doesn't mean I was running away."

"So what were you running to, then?"

"Why are you acting like this is an inquiry?"

"Because I need to know if it's worth my time."

"If what is?"

"You." He replied. "I need to know if it's worth the trouble to adopt you."

"Just leave me here for the next two years and I'll be out anyway. Either way, I expect to get dumped off by the time I'm eighteen." The girl said with a straight face.

"You're rather morbid for someone your age."

"Not morbid. I just see the realities instead of living in the delusional bubble Darley sets up for us."

"Yes... I think you'll do well."

Girl never saw it coming. The doctor, who introduced himself as Hannibal or Hann rather than "father," called Darley in and told her that he wanted to adopt. Darley looked a bit shocked, but recovered and led him out to do paperwork. In less than twenty minutes, Hannibal was back and he whisked Girl away to the car. She had a case for her typewriter and a picnic basket of her belongings that was smaller than her typewriter case.

In the car, Hannibal got a chance to study Girl further since she fell asleep half way to his house. She was lanky and strong. Her hands showed ware as though she had worked on a farm of some kind. Her left arm was covered in thin white scars that had begun to tan over, but it was obvious that she had used a type of pin or other small, non-knife object to cut herself. There was a faint shadow on her neck of where a violent hickey had been months before. The gold watch she wore was at least five years old, beaten up, and needed a new battery. She had a drawn expression on her face as she slept and twitched every once in a while, her brow furrowing.

Hannibal smiled. She was beautiful in a traumatized way. She was a predator who had been overtaken and was mad about it. Her attitude, her scars; everything pointed that way.

When they pulled up to his house, Hannibal carried Girl into the house and set her on the one bed in the house. She was surprisingly light. Thankfully, Darley hadn't asked about sleeping space, and he had known that her choice would be to share a bed or to sleep on the couch or floor. For now, though, he decided not to wake her. Waking up in a different place would be scary enough, he wouldn't add to her discomfort.

He brought her things in and set op a chair next to the bed. He silently thanked himself or keeping the comfortable chair he had picked up on the side of a road, for he would otherwise have had to sleep on the old love-seat in the living room.

It then occurred to him that Girl wold need a real name. Instead of looking through names and trying to find one that fit her, he looked for a name that just rolled off his tongue when he saw her.

"Lolita." he said to himself.

More to come! I promise, I'll update when I can. Thanks for reading! --


	2. Bloody Hell

Recap: Hannibal is called to an orphanage where he adopts a young, nameless girl. She fell asleep and he watches her. We're picking up from there, k? Cool.

"Lolita." he said to himself.

He had heard the name somewhere. A book. Lolita was a young girl who had been sought after by her much older step-father. How fitting it seemed for Girl to be named after another traumatized girl, though Hannibal had no intention of having the story play out in his house. he felt a smile creep across his lips and he repeated the name so he wouldn't forget it as he welcomed sleep that wrapped him in its warm blanket.

Hannibal woke when he heard Girl roll over violently. Then there was a thud and Hannibal opened his eyes. Girl had punched the metal bed frame by the wall. She opened her eyes and recoiled her hand quickly, barley glancing at Hannibal.

"It's alright, Lolita. It happens."

Girl looked around as if trying to find this mysterious "Lolita." Hannibal smiled.

"Dear, that's you. I can't keep calling you by what you are, rather who you are."

Lolita took a moment to process. "Lolita, huh? If you mean that in any relation to the book, I'm a virgin, thank you."

Th morning continued in sarcastic but intelligent conversation. Hannibal mentioned Lolita's life before she had gone to the orphanage (or "stray child zoo" as she called it) a few times but she always changed to the subject.

"And I'm sending you to school." Hannibal said.

"You what? They didn't tell you anything, did they?" Lolita said, smirking.

"What was I supposed to know?"

"I wasn't allowed to shake your hand because I've been known to injure people with pretty much anything available. They chopped my nails down until they bled, tried to put mouthpieces in, took away anything sharp or heavy. That display case was not my room. My real room was a much smaller case with five other people."

"So this is only relevant because of what?"

"It's relevant because I don't want to be tempted to hurt anyone. I don't think you'd enjoy picking me up after I've been arrested for assault, do you?"

Hannibal thought, then said. "Did you say that you were in a room with five other people?"

"Yes." Lolita said. "But they were all seven and under. Hardly a decent outlet for my sadistic tendencies."

"Nevertheless, you're going to school. I can't have you here all day." Hannibal replied. "And get to the restroom before you stain your unders."

"What?"

"You're bleeding, Lolita."

She stared a moment with wide eyes before biting her lip and rushing off to the bathroom. Hannibal just sat down, smiling. Now, he knew, he would feel constantly satisfied with the scent of a bleeding woman in the house. It would also make him hungry. He knew he'd need to find his next meal soon or he'd end up hurting Lolita.

When dinner came around, Lolita walked into the kitchen. She saw that Hannibal was already busy cooking and that there was a lot of blood on the meat he was washing. It looked amazingly fresh which, to Lolita, was very unusual.

"Do you want help?" She asked.

"No. No, I can do this. It's rather messy. I wouldn't want you to stain your clothes." Hannibal replied. "Do you have anything else to wear?"

Lolita looked down at the outfit she was wearing. She hadn't changed since she was at the orphanage and she sighed ashamedly.

"No. I have one set of clothes and this is it."

"I see. Well, I'll be paid in a few days so I'll send you to buy some things for yourself. In the meantime, do you know how to sew?"

"Some."

"Then go up into the attic and get the sewing machine and some scrap cloth to make yourself something to sleep in. We can at least give you that. I'll finish dinner in the meantime."

Lolita nodded and left for the attic where Hannibal had led her earlier. She found an ancient looking white sewing machine and some soft cotton to make a shift out of. Lolita busied herself with making her nightdress until Hannibal called her out for dinner.

When she returned to the kitchen, she found that Hannibal had made dinner out of the massive amounts of meat he had been cleaning. It was a casual and quiet dinner with only the radio playing in the background.

"Hann," Lolita said. "Why do you have so much meat in the house?"

"I make sure I have to go to the store as little as possible."

"It's likely to go bad before it's all eaten. You adopted a girl, not a boy." Hannibal smiled at her attempt.

"Dear, if you want to see why I have so much, you can look in the barn. I have my own livestock. I have to kill the entire animal and freeze the meat. I can't just slice off what I'm going to eat at that moment."

"I suppose." She said, shrugging.

When dinner was over, Lolita returned to her nightdress. She had succeeded in making a near mess of the whole thing and had to cover some spots where she had accidentally opened a hole. It didn't look too bad for nightwear, but she was just hoping to be able to wear it only in her own company. Then, Hannibal told her about the bedding.

"There's only one bed in the house?"

"Yes."

"You tell me now? You couldn't tell me this morning and let me get used to the idea?"

"I didn't think you needed that time."

"So, in other words, either share a bed, sleep on the couch, or on the floor?"

"Yes. Unless you'd like the chair."

Lolita thought. She didn't like to sleep sitting up, the couch was old and broken, and the who knew what might come out at night if she slept on the floor. She bit her lip. She found Hannibal handsome, but was far from having a crush on him and was definitely not comfortable sharing sleeping space with him. And who knew what his mind was making out of this? She sighed in frustration.

"...I guess we'll have to share..."

She looked at Hannibal. He was smiling. Not pervertedly, but not far from a look of victorious satisfaction. Lolita looked at him suspiciously before walking into the restroom and changing.

Thankfully, when she came back, Hannibal had turned most of the lights off and the one that was left on was dimmed. Hannibal was sitting at the desk that Lolita had been using nearly all day with her typewriter. To Lolita's horror, Hannibal was reading her writing. She ran over and snatched it out of his hands.

"I will ask few things of you. One is to respect my privacy." She said. He smiled.

"I will remember that in the future. You're a excellent writer, though." Lolita nodded uncertainly. "We best get to bed."

Hannibal pulled back the sheets before turning back to her and asking which side she'd prefer; against the wall or on the edge. She chose the side by the wall so she could have an excuse to watch him in case he had some hidden perverted side to him. She climbed up and slid under the covers, huddling as close to the wall as she could.

/"This is going to be a long night."/ She thought as Hannibal slid in next to her.

Over the course of the night, Lolita discovered that Hannibal slept on his back, never moving, and that his breathing came slowly in intervals of four or five seconds. His long hands rested lightly on his chest, his eyes opened half way sometimes, and a smile occasionally crept across his handsome features. She would have to remember that if she ever got the impulse to run away in the night.

It was well into the morning before Lolita fell asleep. Hannibal felt it was about one in the morning before Lolita's breath slowed to three or four second intervals. He turned his head to look at the girl. He inhaled the sweet scent of her blood and realized that she had bled on the sheets.

Deciding to test how heavy a sleeper Lolita was, Hannibal pulled back the covers and touched the line of blood that trailed down her leg. Lolita twitched, but didn't wake. Absently, Hannibal lowered his head and licked away the blood on her inner knee. Then, he left to get a rag in case she woke and wondered why her thigh was wet, slightly shocked at himself.

When he returned with two rags, on wet, one dry, Lolita had woken as he predicted. She looked at him questioningly, but he didn't answer. He simply handed her the rags and left to shower.

Lolita listened to the water of the shower turn on and she looked at the blood on the sheets. She groaned, knowing that she'd have to wash the white sheets for untold amounts of time until the stain was gone. She got up, changed and took her clothes and the sheets into the basement where she knew Hannibal had a large vat of water where he said he did his laundry since he didn't have a machine for it.

However, when she got down to the basement, Lolita was shocked at the sight. One entire wall was painted red with blood. At the base of the wall, there laid a heap of blood soaked cloth. Lolita stepped forward and saw the maimed, skeleton like body of what was once a human. Jutting out of the carcass's stripped bones was a large ax formerly used for cutting down old trees. Fighting the urge to scream, the scared girl backed out slowly, the sheets forgotten, and ran upstairs.

Hannibal had just walked out of the bathroom and was looking through drawers for clothes to wear when Lolita came ripping into the room. He was surprised that she barely paid attention to the fact that he wore only a towel about his waist and that she wore only her skirt and bra, but he forgot about it when he looked at her face. She was horrified, but her voice was steady and demanding.

"Hannibal, explain to me why there is a body in the basement."

Thanx for reading! I'll try to update soon, but in order to do that, I need more than one review!! Please let me know what you think, thank you! And thank you to Rhanielle Iria Nashatu for reviewing!


	3. Costume

"Hannibal, explain to me why there is a body in the basement."

She shook violently until she fell, Hannibal catching her and sitting her on the bed. He sat beside her and shook his head.

"You went down to wash the sheets, didn't you?"

"Why...?"

/"No use in telling her just yet about my habits."/ Hannibal thought.

"The body isn't real. If you recall, tomorrow is Halloween. I will be having a little horror party and the body is there as decoration." Hannibal lied.

"It's not real...?"

"No."

"B-but it looks so real..."

"Optical illusions, I assure you. I know what a body really looks like. I'm a doctor, remember?"

"Yes..." Lolita replied feebly.

She then seemed to realize their clothing situation. She let out a small gasp before turning away, blushing. Hannibal chuckled.

"If you'd like, I can do the washing until I take down the decorations."

"...Please."

"And you don't need to be so shy. Neither of us is completely nude, so it doesn't matter much." Hannibal said smoothly. "Besides, we've shared a bed. If I wanted to take advantage of you, I would have done so last night."

"Or maybe you were waiting to gain my trust before drugging and molesting me."

"Now, now, Lolita. We are not following the story."

"Who said we were? I'm just leaving the possibility open."

"Well, don't. I care not for molesting minors. For that matter, I don't care for sex much at all."

/"Well, at least he's decent enough to state that..."/ Lolita thought.

However smoothly Hannibal lied to Lolita, he worried about pulling it together. How would he get a group of people for tomorrow without it seeming rushed? He knew it couldn't be a group of too learned people, particularly in human anatomy, or they would realize the blood and body were real. Then, he got an idea.

After checking several radio accounts of the next day's weather, Hannibal gathered that it was going to rain. He'd need to "run a few errands" to get some sort of fake replacement for the body in the basement and fake blood to cover up and then wait for it to rain.

For the remainder of the day, Lolita stayed in the bedroom, typing and calming down after nearly self-inducing a heart attack that morning. This freed Hannibal to come and go as necessary to clean up and exchange his "decorations." He had gone to a hole-in-the-wall shop toward the corner of town, a shady place, and gotten a suitable replacement that would fool the eye in the dark basement.

As for the guests that Hannibal was sure would decide not to come, he had invited some members from a local orchestra to come over. None of them had a high education in science or other related subject.

The next day brought much silence in the Lecter household. Lolita disappeared into the attic after finding that she had rolled over onto Hannibal's chest in her sleep and Hannibal was busy "readying" for the party. Both of them, however, knew that the party wouldn't happen due to the already blackened skies.

At around two o'clock, it started to rain. Lolita hadn't had any contact with Hannibal since she woke and had since spent her time sewing more clothes for herself. She had actually made herself a costume.

She had found a pile of soft black material, untouched green tulle, and white lace. She made into a tea length dress using the lace like tulle under the black skirt and lining the collar and angel (belled) sleeves with the lace. She also sewed some of the black and green scraps into a rose for her hair, stiffening it with starch. She smiled as she held it up to herself in front of the mirror. Then, she sat down and began sewing another outfit.

A while later, Hannibal went into the attic to bring Lolita some food because she hadn't eaten since the night before and it was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon. He was surprised to find that she was sewing pants and a shirt was already done and laying on the table next to her.

"Lolita?" He said softly, knocking on the doorframe.

She jumped and turned. "Yes?"

"What are you doing? Are you cross dressing for Halloween?"

"Of course." She held up the dress. "And I was going to have you wear this."

Hannibal made a face. "I hope you're joking..."

"Of course this isn't for me. It's for you."

"Why make something for me?" Hannibal asked in pure curiosity.

"I figure that you need a costume for hosting a Halloween party. I looked in your closet and you didn't have one, so I decided to do it myself." Lolita sighed. "Besides, I know I'm not a perfect person and that having me around has put a lot of responsibility on you."

"So this is your way of paying that back?" Hannibal asked, amused.

"I suppose." Lolita returned to her sewing.

"Lolita," Hannibal got her attention again. "How did you know my size?"

Lolita turned around to face him again, this time holding up some clothes that were already done. Hannibal gaped.

"You took clothes from my closet?"

"How else was I to know besides measuring you straight up? I'm a little less forward than that."

"I see. It's beautiful."

"You're welcome."

Hannibal took the costume, unusually thankful feeling.

"Well, go on." Lolita said.

"What?"

"Go try it on. I want to see if I need to make adjustments."

"If you do as well." Lolita nodded and Hannibal left for the restroom.

Hannibal liked his costume. Lolita had made him a loose white shirt that opened down the front, tying at the collar and close-fitting black pants. He was also pleased with the costume Lolita had made for herself. The dress hung pleasantly on her small but voluptuous figure and hugged her curves. She had added black stockings and her shoes to the ensemble.

Rather than letting him stare at her, Lolita hurried about, re-measuring and making mental notes about what was wrong here and there.

"Lolita, don't fuss. It's perfect."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. If anyone comes tonight, they will be floored."

Lolita smiled. Hannibal made a mental note of that. He hadn't seen her truly smile in the entire time she had been with him and he didn't want to forget it.


	4. Halloween Cheer?

Okay, I know this one is short and I'm sorry. I've had a recital on my mind and the preparation is exhausting. i'lll try to either add to this chapter or I'll post a REALLY long one next, okay? So, this is the new chapter, enjoy!

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Neither Hannibal nor Lolita ended up changing their clothes, though no one came as expected. Despite this, neither was disappointed. Hannibal was content with knowing he had made some sort of bond with Lolita and the latter was happy that there was a kind of guardian that didn't see her as a child. Of course, she had realized some time ago that Hannibal didn't look upon her as juvenile, but the two had reached a leveled point of respect and admiration for the other.

Lolita was surprised when the smile sprang not so bashfully from her lips in her embarrassment at Hannibal's compliment. True, she had tried for hours, carefully ripping out wrong seams and re-sewing them, to make the costume. She didn't know why she had slaved so for him, but she had, perhaps, deep down, wanted to impress him.

The two spent the remainder of the evening in the basement after Hannibal laid an appropriate white sheet over the fake body, just talking. Hannibal learned that when Lolita was 13, her parents had died from unknown (or unexplained) causes.

She had then moved to her grandparents house per her parents' wills. During her time with them, she had witnessed some rather horrific things (namely her grandfather beating, molesting, and full out raping young children) so she had practically locked herself in the library where she became very learned. However, when her grandfather began to make moves toward her, taking doors off bathrooms and bedrooms, she ran away. She later discovered that the house had been set on fire only a half hour after she left.

"Did you do it?" Hannibal asked as Lolita explained everything, void of emotion.

"Do what?"

"Set the fire."

"What gave you that impression?"

"You're far too calm. Even if you hated them, I'm sure you would hold some emotion if it were a true accident." Hannibal analyzed.

"What would it matter?"

"Arson is one of the best ways to hide who did it. If you had the intent to kill, setting an "accidental" fire would not raise alarm. Especially if there was dried brush around the house as you've described there was."

"What would you do either way?"

"Truly, it doesn't matter to me if you did or not. It's none of my business and I would have no reason to turn you in." Silence.

"Fine. I did." Lolita said finally. "I didn't mean to kill them, though. I just wanted to leave them with nothing."

Hannibal smiled, taking note again that he had made the right choice when he adopted her. She had reason to be sadistic and, therefore, was as he was. Yes, this one would be interesting.

The large clock in the basement chimed, shattering Hannibal's train of thought. One...two...three.. four... he lost count. It was late, though. That he knew.

"We best get to sleep." He said.

Lolita said nothing, just nodded and started up the stairs. Hannibal, absently, watched Lolita's skirt swish back and forth as she climbed the set of stairs. She was very thin, so proved by the black stockings, but she wasn't to the point of an ugly thin.

He worried slightly about his adopted teenager because she would surely be sought after by the boys at her school. The town wasn't the greatest and hearing about rape and assault wasn't uncommon. Hannibal was confident, though, that Lolita would be able to hold her own against the others. If she truly had killed her grandparents without a second thought, she would probably think no more of injuring or killing others who threatened her.

Lolita stopped and turned at the head of the stairs when she didn't hear Hannibal following.

"Are you coming or not?" She asked.

"In a bit. I need to clean up."

"Do it in the morning. It's late. You can even get up late and do it. You don't have any patients until well into the afternoon." Hannibal stared.

"How did you-"

"You left your appointment book out. Come on."

Lolita opened the door to the ground level of the house and walked out leaving Hannibal stunned.

/"She could be dangerous..."/ he thought.

Dangerous and beautiful. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, Hannibal longed for Lolita's attentions. More than any guardian should and, in a way, even more than a lover should. He felt an obsessive pang of longing down the length of his torso - the kind of feeling he had felt for Shikibu (his aunt and former lover) before he had avenged Mischa.

The feeling followed him to his bedroom where Lolita was already asleep. She was huddled under the blankets to lift the cold of autumn and laid peacefully on her side, facing Hannibal. After changing, Hannibal joined Lolita in the inviting warmth of sleep.


	5. Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered

Hannibal woke to music. When the haze of sleep lifted, he realized it was his record of Bewitched by Ella Fitzgerald. He sat up and found that Lolita was playing the song and sitting at the foot of the bed, a pad of paper and a pencil on her lap. She was so concentrated that she didn't notice that Hannibal was awake until he moved. Then, she looked up quickly.

"...Oh. You're awake." She sounded almost disappointed.

"What are you doing?" he asked groggily.

"Drawing." Then she went back to her art.

Hannibal noticed that Lolita looked up at him every once in a while as she drew. Finally, curiosity got the best of him and he stood and walked around to see what she was drawing. Lolita moved just as fast, though. She covered it and looked at Hannibal.

"You don't get to see it just yet." She teased.

"Why not?"

"Because it's not done."

"I enjoy the process."

"That doesn't mean I want you to see. You get to wait."

She stuck her tongue out at him and flipped the page on her notebook. Hannibal saw what looked like a hand. He recognized the fingers as either Lolita's or his own due to the long, slender fingers and squared palms. The hand was gloved and shaded in. It appeared to be resting on something but Hannibal didn't get a good enough look to see what.

"By the way," Hannibal said. "I decided not to have you go to school."

"Really?" Lolita asked enthusiastically.

"Don't get overly excited. You're going to still do some learning, but I can't take you back and forth to school and I don't want you going by yourself. It's dangerous."

"Not a great town for safety, I take."

"No, not really. You remember the library, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to have you read at least four books a week. By the time two years has passed, you'll have read a substantial amount of the library."

"That doesn't seem too difficult. What's the catch?" Lolita asked suspiciously

"No catch. I just want you to be safe, but I don't want to keep you from learning."

"I know half of what they teach in college anyway."

"How might that be?" Now Hannibal was really curious.

"I told you I practically lived in my grandparent's library. My grandfather was a doctor - a pediatrician. He had many books that only college medical students would be able to get their hands on." Lolita explained bitterly.

"I see. In that case, perhaps you can help me. I have some rather... violent patients who come in for therapy. If you could help me deal with them, that would be a great help."

"What do you mean by "deal with them?""

"Help with strapping them to their seats to keep them from going on a rampage or stand by with a sedative. Nothing too difficult."

"But how dangerous?"

"Not very. I won't be leaving you alone with them."

Lolita eventually agreed to the situation. What had she to loose anyway?

Quite a bit of sanity, as she discovered. Hannibal was nearly double booked with appointments all throughout the week. It wasn't a wonder that he took weekends off.

On top of that, most of his patients were psychotic maniacs. Almost every appointment was spent with Lolita watching bindings, holding a sedative, and/or wrapping her own wounds from the previous appointment's attack.

By the end of the day, Lolita was exhausted. She almost didn't bother with changing before she flopped down in bed and fell asleep easily. While she was in this state, Hannibal would have stolen her sketch book and peeked, but, even in her drowsiness, Lolita seemed to know and she slept with the book clutched to her chest. Smiling, Hannibal took out his own paper and pencil and began something that was a mystery to all but him.

The next morning, Lolita went up to the library after breakfast so she could start her books. She was disappointed to find that the first dozen or so books she pulled out she had already read. With a heavy sigh, she moved on to less non-fiction books. One, a plain black, leather-bound book, caught her eye.

She was surprised to see her own name scripted across the front of the cover.

_**Lolita**_

_**by Vladimir Nabokov**_

She had heard of the book and its controversial contents, but had never read it. A slight spark of interest twinkled in her eye as she sat on the floor by one of the shelves and began to read.

Some time later, Lolita shook her head and skipped a few paragraphs as she read Humbert's diary entries that Charlotte gets to. The man's mind was truly portrayed as sick and stricken with pedophiliac lust. Several times, Lolita felt like her stomach was going to upturn her breakfast as she read about Humbert's want for sexual favors and how her namesake was allowing it to happen, however hesitant she may have been.

"Lolita!"

The girl snapped out of her reading-induced haze when she heard Hannibal call her from somewhere.

"Yes?" She called back.

"Would you get the door? I'm up to my elbows in bull blood."

"Yes."

Lolita set the book down carefully and almost flew down the stairs to answer the door. She straightened her dress out before opening the door.

She gasped almost inaudibly when she saw a familiar person at the door. She was met with a ghost - a man she believed had passed the gates from life. The man was tall, straight, and white as a old birch tree. His eyes were an icy blue that forbade you from disobeying or questioning anything he said.

"You're looking rather feminine today, Doctor." He said jokingly, but still stoic. "And who might you be, his wife?"

"N-no. His daughter." Lolita stuttered out to her grandfather. "P-please, come in. T-the d-doctor will be w-with you i-in a moment."

Her grandfather walked in cooly, smiling sinisterly, staring at the girl while she closed the door behind him.

"You k-know your way t-to the a-appointment room, right?"

"Do you have a speech impediment, my dear?" he asked, seriously.

"...No." Lolita replied slowly, trying to steady her nerves.

"Then, you need not stutter with me. You're _very_ pretty. What's your name?""Lolita..." She said slowly.

"Ah. A fitting name." He stepped forward. Lolita stepped back, feeling the crystal cabinet behind her. "Yes, you're _very_ pretty. The doctor's daughter, you said?"

Lolita gasped as her grandfather grabbed her arm with one hand and her face with the other. She began to relive memories from the last time he tried this. Their eyes locked.

"You have absolutely no resemblance to him, you little liar." He said viciously, his nails digging into her flesh. "Who are you?!"

"HANNIBAL!!!" Lolita screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Mr. Swain, that's quite enough!" Hannibal said firmly.

Lolita flinched slightly when she heard Hannibal raise his voice. His voice, which was usually calm and level, became savage and harsh with his anger. It made her grandfather let go, though, and for that, she was willing to witness Hannibal's anger. She ran like a scared child behind her guardian the moment she was released.

"Who is she?!" Swain demanded.

"My daughter."

"I dunno what you two are playing at, but she isn't your daughter! She looks nothing like you and you don't have a wife."

"I adopted her a few days ago." Hannibal replied cooly. "Now, let's be on our way. You arrived late as it is. Lolita?"

"Yes?"

"Do me a favor, would you? Go into my patient files in the library and get the one that says "Swain, Keith.""

Lolita nodded and hurried away, wanting nothing more than to escape the lecherous presence of her grandfather.

When she got into the library and into the large filing cabinet, she thumbed through the many files and found the one she was looking for. She waked back slowly, however, looking through the file.

The thick manila folder contained everything about her grandfather - including a criminal record and a admittance to mental and medical hospitals. Shortly after the fire in which his wife died, he was admitted to a hospital for severe burns and, a month later, transfered to a mental hospital for a sanity lapse and pedophiliac tendencies. The criminal records included accused rape and accused molestation. He hadn't been proven guilty of the included, but Lolita knew they were both true.

Lolita turned a corner and ran into something. She looked up, scared, but was relieved to find that it was only Hannibal.

"Please, Lolita, don't look through people's files when I ask you to retrieve them. It's rude." Hannibal scolded lightly, taking the file from her.

"Sorry. I know him."

"Do you? How?"

"He's... my grandfather. Maternal."

"Really? Didn't you say he was dead?"

"That's what I thought. I don't know, but there's no mistaking his face or his records. It's him." Lolita explained.

"Do you want to sit this one out? I'm not going to force you to sit through it if it's uncomfortable for you." Hannibal replied kindly. Lolita thought for a moment.

"...No. I want to hear his side of the story."

"Very well, come with me."

/"This will certainly be interesting..."/ Both Hannibal and Lolita thought.

_**Please review!!!**_


	6. Julie

"So then, Mr. Swain, let's begin. I'm going to need those records." Hannibal said, seating himself across from Swain who was buckled down in the chair that was bolted to the floor.

"Which ones?"

"Your records of dreams and other child oriented thoughts."

"Oh." Swain pulled out a stack of papers and handed them over.

"This is only the past week?" Hannibal asked, astonished.

"Yes, Doctor."

"And you haven't had any contact with children since then?"

"Not until today." Swain replied, motioning toward Lolita.

"Yes, I apologize for the contact, but perhaps that was for the better. Slowly reintroducing you to children may help more than starving you of their presence altogether." Hannibal went through Swain's file. "Now, I wanted to ask you about the fire in your house a few years ago."

From the corner where she sat, Lolita perked up, though she tried to look as uninterested as before. Swain's lips tightened.

"I think it was my granddaughter. She left when she was 15, the very night that the fire was set. It cost me everything - my home, my wife, my information, everything."

"What was the nature of the fire? Where did it start?"

"Outside, in the bushes. I had been meaning to get out and cut back the dead brush, but it had been so hot, I couldn't get out to do it. The firemen and police said it was probably an accident and that I was crazy to think a 15-year-old girl would try to kill people when she had never had a murderous tendency. If anything, she had been a quiet girl, obedient, knowledge-hungry. She practically lived in the library. Too bad she was such a hard nose when it came to my patients. I wanted her to be with some of the others-"

"What do you mean by "be with?" As in be in a relationship?"

"No. Have sex. I wanted to see the little bitch scream with one of the boys inside her. She was so quiet, it made me angry. I just wanted to rip those screams from her throat-!" Hannibal interrupted again.

"That's enough. She was your granddaughter. Please spare me your perverse views on her."

"Sorry."

"Now about your wife. Did she know?"

"About Julie? No. She knew about my patients, though."

"Who was Julie?"

"My granddaughter."

Lolita's eyes widened at the voicing of her real name. She hadn't used it in almost a year and a half. The sound of it brought back a flood of terrible memories she had hoped she had forgotten when her name left her. Ignoring the ongoing conversation Lolita ran out and her stomach finally did turn out in the restroom as she retched what felt like everything she had eaten in the last three years.

Julie Polmerci... that was her name. That was the name of the plump little girl with the childishly wide green eyes and dark skin. In the year she was on her own, she had lived by night and lost her tan and the eyes became weathered and aged. The baby fat had disappeared from her growing form as she became a woman and starved. Now, though, Julie was dead. She had died under the highway in the deep winter snow.

Lolita finally stopped vomiting and wiped her mouth clean, flushing the toilet. She didn't move, though, from her place on the floor. She pulled her knees to her her chest and leaned back against the wall, settling her breathing and closing her eyes. Through the walls, she could hear the appointment continue.

"So how many children did you try to pair up?" Hannibal asked.

"I never kept count."

"How many do you think? Dozens, hundreds?"

"Closer to hundreds." Lolita heard Hannibal sigh, a long sorrowful sigh.

"Why?"

"I think everyone, regardless of age, should feel that pleasure. That pain."

"And if they didn't do as you told them?"

"They got it anyway; the pain."

"You beat them?"

"Yes. And a few other creative things."

Hannibal sighed again and ended the session early. He led Swain out and Lolita heard the soft click of his hard soled shoes approach the open door.

"So your name is-"

"Don't say it!" Lolita hissed, interrupting the man. "I retched once, I don't need to turn up any other interesting things."

Hannibal walked over to her and kneeled down beside her. he spoke softly, lovingly to her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what, Hann?"

"What happened, your name, everything."

"I told you what happened. I didn't think you needed all the details." Lolita replied tiredly. "And I forgot my name. That girl died long ago. I'm Lolita now."

Hannibal, trying to comfort her, wrapped his arms around her in a rare display of affection. He almost expected Lolita to pull away, but she only shook for a moment before returning the embrace.

He heard her stifle her sobbing, but soon she just broke down and cried. Large, soot-colored tears rolled from Lolita's eyes as if she hadn't cried since she had lived on the streets of London, in the dirt. Hannibal wiped them away and laid a gossamer kiss on the girl's forehead.

"Come. We need to get you cleaned up a bit."


	7. Hannibal's Mind

"Come. We need to get you cleaned up a bit."

Hannibal helped Lolita into a cushioned chair in the library, hoping it was a place where she felt safe. He wiped her face clean with a damp cloth and put a blanket over her, treating her as though she was ill. True, she was a little feverish, hot to the touch, but shivering like she were naked in a snowstorm.

For the second time, Lolita smiled at Hannibal and she scooted over in the large chair, inviting him, wordlessly, to sit with her. Hannibal obliged, slipping his arm around the girl's waist and holding her close. It surprised him that Lolita would seek comfort from him rather than in solitude or a book, but he didn't say anything. He simply wanted to savor the sweetness of feeling needed and, what he hoped, was some form of loving.

It certainly seemed so by the way Lolita snuggled into Hannibal's chest like a kitten. Hannibal smiled at her childish notions, imagining her as the untainted child she had been before her grandfather's corruption had taken hold of her pure mind.

In essence, Hannibal felt that they had the same soul. Both tortured and untamed, victims of outer, uncontrolled forces. Both in need of someone to share it with or some outlet for it. Hannibal, until now, had chosen the latter by way of his cannibalistic tendencies, but Lolita had somehow managed on her own on the streets.

That sent Hannibal to thinking. How had she gotten by? She had not had anyone to share her pain with, and yet she hadn't taken her anger out on anyone. She had told him that she "wandered about soullessly for a year before she was picked up." What was that supposed to mean.

In his thinking, his grasp on Lolita had tightened and she squirmed and whined wordlessly like a puppy you squeeze too hard. She had been half asleep as it was and Hannibal loosened his grasp, not wanting her to leave that state.

He looked down upon her form and smiled again. Lolita was truly a beautiful girl and he now knew why he had been drawn to her when they met. Their souls had linked when they breathed the same air - the air that carried the scent of roses from her which intoxicated his mind.

"My dear," He whispered to the sleeping form. "This is sick, but I do believe I love you..."

As if in response, Lolita's sleeping figure snuggled into him further and Hannibal sat there with her as she slept.

Sorry for the short chapter and lack of dialogue. I figured we should get into Hannibal's brain a bit. Besides, this particular point, they tell me, was that lacking in speech, so HA!! I'm only following instructions from Hannibal because he will eat the brain he lives in if I don't:P


	8. A Screaming Lamb

When Hannibal woke, Lolita was still cuddled against his side, but she was now awake and reading. Hannibal hadn't felt her move, so he figured the book must have been sitting on the table next to them. Gently, he pulled the book from her hands and read the title. "Lolita" it said "by Vladimir Nabokov."

"You're reading this? I thought you already had."

"I knew about it. I had never read it."

The wall clock in the library chimed, announcing that it was one o'clock.

"Are you hungry?" Hannibal asked.

Lolita shrugged and nodded. Hannibal untangled himself from her, helped her up. She fell into him since her legs had been folded for the hour the two had been there. She blushed and stood up straight. Hannibal didn't release her arms though.

"Why do you blush? You probably shouldn't. You're far too cute when you do." He said.

Lolita looked up in shock at his comment, then looked down, her hair covering her face. Hannibal was sure she was blushing again.

"Why do you say things like that?" Lolita asked, looking up again. To Hannibal, Lolita's blush looked like bloodstained china.

"Because it's true."

He kissed reddening cheek and led her to the kitchen where Lolita insisted that she help make the food. It occurred to her that she hadn't made any of her own food and it bothered her. Hannibal smiled and let her cook, but he took everything out of the fridge to make sure she didn't see anything he didn't want her to.

When the two finished their meal, Hannibal announced that he had to leave for the rest of the day.

"What kind of business?" Lolita asked.

"I'm meeting and old friend. We're going to go hunting. I figured that wouldn't be of interest to you, so I'm going to leave you here."

"Oh... I see."

"I'm sorry. It's also that my friend doesn't enjoy the company of women. He thinks you smell like fish."

Lolita couldn't help but laugh. "So he's a "confirmed bachelor (1)," is he?"

"If you like." Hannibal mused. "I should be back by nine o'clock tonight."

"Alright." Lolita said softly, resigning herself to a day of boredom.

For the remainder of the day, Lolita busied herself with finishing her drawing, cleaning, and making more clothes. She had gotten much better at the latter - she had made over 10 articles of clothing for herself and most of them could pass for store bought.

As she worked, the vibrations from the sewing machine numbing her hands, Lolita found her mind drifting to Hannibal. His smile, his soft, almost parental kisses... then her daydreaming was shattered by the sound of screaming.

Quickly, she stopped sewing and flew down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor. There was another short scream and then silence. Lolita ran about, trying to figure out where the screaming had come from, but, even after an hour of scouring the house, she found no source. Carefully, she climbed up the steps and back into the attic.

"I'm sure I heard it..." She said softly to herself. "I'm sure I did."

As she continued to sew, Lolita's thoughts drifted to Hannibal again. For some reason, she had dreamed that he told her he loved her. Just a whisper, but she heard it. Perhaps she had imagined it as she had imagined the screaming earlier...

Blood. Her thoughts were invaded by splotches of red - blood staining Hannibal's front. He began to laugh and his crystal blue eyes shined a deep maroon hue, reflecting the blood on him. That was not the Hannibal Lolita knew. She opened her eyes in time to save her thumb from joining the buttons on her new dress.

/"What was that?"/ She wondered. /"A warning for my hand? Or was it a premonition of some kind?"/

In the meantime, Hannibal and his "friend" were out "hunting." Or rather, Hannibal was doing the hunting and his "friend," who he had seen not hours before, was not so interested in their sport.

"Why are you doing this?!" Keith Swain yelled as Hannibal threw the thick rope over a tall branch.

"Why? Because you have injured someone I love more deeply than should be allowed." Hannibal replied, hooking the noose around his victim's throat. "Though I will say you put up more of a fight than any one else. Well done, Keith."

Hannibal looked at his hand through the sliced glove. Keith had had a very large pocketknife - 18 inches (barely a pocketknife) - with which he had tried valiantly to defend himself. He had managed to draw a substantial amount of blood from Hannibal's side and palms with no proper training of how to use it properly. He had, however, failed in the end. All that led up to was Hannibal knocking out and hog-tying him.

"So what will killing me solve?" Keith demanded.

"It will rid the world of one more piece of filth. Good-bye, Mr. Swain."

Without another word from either of them, Hannibal ran with the rope in his hands, suspending Keith his full height from the ground. After what seemed like an eternity of attempting to break Keith's neck, Hannibal heard the satisfying crack of bones breaking and Keith's body began to jerk involuntarily. Hannibal stood by and watched until the older man's body ceased moving.

Hannibal took his time butchering and burying the body. When he was finished with it, it looked like a body that had been in the ground for years. He also pulled out and ground down teeth so that dental records couldn't be traced. No one would suspect a thing and they would never know what became of the insane Keith Swain.

* * *

So we had a little violence to balance the sweetness… like bittersweet chocolate. Ooh, chocolate. I want some now!! I have an idea for the next chapter, so it should be out soon!

(1) - "Confirmed bachelor" was, at one point, a polite term for a gay man. This is just in case someone doesn't know...


	9. Who Will Be Forgiv'n?

When Hannibal came back, it was almost eleven o'clock. He found Lolita asleep on their bed, her feet under their pillows, a record of "Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man" sung by Ava Gardener playing. Hannibal turned off the record and sat by Lolita, stroking her cheek. She stirred and looked up at him groggily.

"You're back..." She said. "You said you'd be back by nine-"

"I know. I'm sorry. Butchering the game took more time than I thought it would."

"What happened to your hand?"

Lolita sat up and took Hannibal's hand in hers. She carefully slid off the glove and looked at the wound. Her brow furrowed.

"I know you're going to say this was from butchering, but I know you're more careful than that. What happened?"

Hannibal was torn. Should he tell her now? Or come up with some creative lie? But, unlike before, since Halloween, he had something to dangle over her head.

"Lolita," He started. "I promised not to tell about your skeletons, will you do the same for me?"

"...Okay."

"It's very important that you don't tell anyone." Lolita nodded. "Come with me."

Hannibal led her, again, into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and Lolita ran to the sink to retch. A pile of fresh meat sat on a plate with a familiar sapphire ring on top.

"Why do you have that?!" Lolita demanded, nearly retching again.

"I had to get revenge from someone who had hurt so many. Especially you."

"Why? He couldn't hurt me anymore. He couldn't hurt anyone anymore. He was in a mental hospital!"

"But even that couldn't force him to repent for his crimes. I did it for you and all those who deserved to see him bleed."

"Why, why?" Lolita took Hannibal's face in her hands, making him look into her desperate eyes. "Not everything can be justified by helping people, Hann. This didn't even help anyone. No matter what, you'll always have that stain on your hands. The law won't forgive you, God won't forgive you. Even if no one else knows... deep down, your conscience is still there. You will never forgive yourself."

"I already have, Lolita." He replied, taking her hands and kissing them both. "And I don't need God to forgive me."

"What about the law? They can find out."

"No. I was careful, I promise. They won't find out. Even if they question me, it won't be nearly enough to pinpoint the crime to me."

With no warning, Hannibal closed the space between the two of them and pulled Lolita's lip to his own. For an instant, Lolita pulled back, then she submitted to the affection, returning the kiss. Hannibal smiled into the kiss and began to lay Lolita on the counter.

She fought, though, as if she just realized what was going on. She pushed Hannibal away, but he didn't let her sit up.

"Hann, you just killed a man who tried to do that to me... and now you doing the same..."

"I'm not going to force you." He kissed her cheek and whispered to her. "I love you."

Lolita froze. She had suspected it for some time, but didn't know how to react. She had been so cut off from her emotions for so long that she couldn't muster enough of it to react at all. She just stared numbly, her mouth half open.

Hannibal just smiled and kissed her. Then, he let her up, bandaged his hand, and the two went to sleep, though Lolita's dreams were plagued by images of the man next to her murdering her grandfather. Once, she woke him gently.

"Yes, my love?" He said, half asleep.

"What was all that meat? Was it him?"

"...Yes."

"Mm..." Then she laid down on Hannibal's chest.

"Lolita?"

"Mm hmm?" She replied, wanting only to feel the lullaby of the gentle rumble in Hannibal's chest as he spoke.

"Don't fret over it. It's done."

"I'm not. I fret because it's not over."

* * *

Another fairly short chapter, but whatever. It was a good place to stop. -- I'll try to get another chapter out tomorrow.  



	10. Christmas Questioning

For those of you who may be a little confused: Keith Swain as admitted to a mental hospital under a strict agreement. The hospital would be allowed to send Swain to psychiatrists and keep him detained during for 18 hours a day. in return, Swain was allowed to drive himself to and from his psychiatric appointments and have the remainder of his time for leisure under another agreement that he wouldn't "try anything" with children. If he violated this, he would be completely imprisoned in the hospital and, possibly, sent to jail. That's why he wasn't missed until the next morning. Okay? Good.

Also, for the last chapter, I'm athiest and I know the "God' thing may have thrown some of you off. That was there only for the time. This is supposed to be 1958, so people were still pretty religious (as I understand it). So, for anyone it may have offended, I'm just taking orders and know that I'm athiest as well.

* * *

As Hannibal had expected, the police came by the next day and asked to question him about Swain. He let them in and told Lolita to go into the attic. He knew she'd likely break down and tell them everything and, however confident he might have been, he wasn't willing to risk that. 

"Do you have know anything about Keith Swain's disappearance? We were told that he came here for an appointment and wasn't seen after that."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Danvers, I don't know where he might be. We ended our appointment a bit early and he left. After that, I don't know."

"I see. Sorry to bother you so early, then."

The police left without a fuss and Hannibal thanked the sun and stars for the fact that men at Scotland Yard had gotten thicker since Inspector Popil was there when he was 18.

Before Hannibal knew it, it was Christmas day. Time seemed to pass so quickly when Lolita was around. He had a companion instead of the dead silence of his house when he was alone.

The blanket of snow that covered the ground in the early morning made everything bright and Lolita was out in the middle of it on the swing she had put up on the large oak in their yard. From a window, Hannibal watched her rock slightly back and forth, the falling snow catching in her midnight hair, looking like stars. She looked up at him and smiled sweetly.

Small displays of affection like that were often exchanged between the two of them but nothing much more than that. Hannibal silently lamented the fact that they hadn't kissed since the night that he told her about her grandfather's murder, but he understood. Swain was responsible for any problems she had with her sexuality and Hannibal cursed him for it.

Hannibal noticed the flurries getting bigger and he motioned to Lolita to come inside. She complied and made it in just in time to get out of the oncoming blizzard.

"Thank you." She said. "I like the cold, but not that much."

Hannibal took her face in his hands to warm her frozen red cheeks. Lolita giggled a little at the sensation, her eyes closed, then stopped when the feeling traveled to her lips. She returned the kiss, but stayed at half an arm's length, signaling not to go any further.

When Hannibal pulled away, Lolita's face was no longer red with the cold and she walked upstairs.

"Come with me." She said.

Both went upstairs and, by the time Hannibal caught up with her, Lolita was half buried under their bed.

"What are you doing?" Hannibal asked in an amused tone.

"Getting your present..." Lolita's muffled voice replied.

After a moment of shuffling around, Hannibal heard the "ah!" of discovery. Out came a shallow 9" by 11 1/2" box with plain brown paper that looked similar to that on a grocery bag.

"I'm sorry the wrapping is so terrible." Lolita apologized. "It's hard to wrap quietly in the dark."

"You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to. Besides, what else was I supposed to do with them? Go on, open it."

Hannibal sat down on the bed and carefully opened the package. In the box, he was amazed to see, was himself. A perfect sketch of himself stared back at him, his gloved hand resting on his chest in a respectful manner and a slight smile upon his lips. His name in an elegant script was next to it with an embellishment underneath.

"There are others..." Lolita offered after several minutes of silence.

Hannibal pulled each one out of the box. One of the sky at dawn, one of a blackbird sitting on a snowy branch, two of several creatures around a pond, but Hannibal was shocked by the last. The last sketch was one of himself as well, as perfect as the first, but it showed a quite different side of him. Next to the figure it read "Hannibal the Cannibal" with the same embellishment underneath it. Instead of the hand resting on his chest, it held a knife and his face was sinister, an expression that Hannibal, coincidentally, had never allowed Lolita to see. Yet, she had gotten everything right, down to the last detail.

"I know you think there's some hidden message in that last one, but there's not. I just wanted you to see what other people see when they find out about your... habit."

"Is that what you see?"

"No. I don't see the crime or the monster. I see the man because I live with you every day. Those who see this," She motioned to the picture in his hands. "Don't know you."

Hannibal smiled in relief as Lolita laid a gossamer kiss on his lips. Then, he remembered.

"I have something for you as well." He said, going into the high reaches of the closet where only he, at 5'10", could reach.

Hannibal handed her a small box and a larger box. Lolita opened the larger box and found that there was a beautiful blue dress with a thin black overlay and a trilogy entitled "The Lord of the Rings." She thanked him for it, but couldn't take her eyes off the small box.

"You're allowed to open it." Hannibal mused.

Lolita tentatively opened the box and was thoroughly shocked by what was in it. An understated silver ring with an onyx stone in the center surrounded by small garnets sat inside. She looked up at Hannibal unsurely. He nodded and kneeled down.

"Know that this isn't for right now since you're still a minor, but will you marry me someday?"

Lolita froze as if she didn't know what to say. But rather than replying verbally, she kneeled down and kissed him. When they finally pulled away, she said softly,

"Darling, you should already know the answer..."

"I should, indeed, but I'd still like to hear it from you."

"Yes, I'll marry you!"

And in that evening, thought Lolita knowingly bound her fate to that of a killer, neither seemed to care.

* * *

_**HANNIBAL HAS ABANDONED ME!!!**_ Therefore, I need ideas as to where to go next. I can say that they may not be there forever and I will probably edit them when Hann comes back, but for the time being; can I get some help? Let me know of your ideas!!

Ravyn


	11. The Swinging Sixties

New Year's came and went as did Hannibal's birthday on the 20th. For both he and Lolita, it seemed as though time was going too fast, yet so slow. Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Eater, May Day, all of them whirled past, but it was only half way through the year.

Lolita's mood improved with the warming weather, wearing light-colored sun dresses and a smile. Her skin became darker and her eyes brighter and she always wore the inconspicuous ring on her finger. Hannibal seemed in a better mood too. His killings had become farther in between and fewer and, though both ate the meat, there was other animals mixed into their diet also.

Summer solstice, autumn solstice, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and, my god, was it Christmas again?

It was quickly becoming clear to Hannibal that Lolita was much more in tune with his subtle ways than he had initially realized. For Christmas, she gave him a small bottle of Hiram Walker Anisette liqueur and another of Reggiano Lambrusco Le Grotte (a soft red). He rarely drank in front of her and she never saw the bottles, but he liked both more than any other. He didn't know where or how she had gotten them, but he didn't press her about it. She also gave him a new pocket watch which he desperately needed.

Another year passed almost as quickly, seeming to change the moment they turned around.

"Is it really 1960 now?" Lolita asked herself in disbelief.

Things really started to change when the "swinging sixties" came about. The understated dresses were replaced by rougher, more revealing, bolder clothes. Strange styles began to replace the classic styles of the fifties.

The sixties also brought a lot of sex into people's everyday lives. Casual sex at that, often sleeping with anyone who caught your fancy. It seemed like everyone had slept with everyone else and if they hadn't they were tight-laced snobs. By 1963, even Hannibal was frustrated by his wife's unwillingness to have sex.

"Stop pressuring me!" Lolita yelled. "If you want sex that badly, go find a whore."

"You know I won't-"

"No. I mean it! You know I have problems, that I'm scared. You've known it from the very beginning! Go to a whore house and find a girl you like."

Hannibal thought about it and considered his morals. Would he really go out and find a prostitute to satisfy his lust for his wife?

"Hann," Lolita said, letting his nickname slide in. "How long has it been since your last kill?"

"A month." He replied.

"Why are you being so insistent? You never get like this unless you haven't killed in a while and you haven't had to kill in one month intervals in nearly two years."

Hannibal was swept by her perception. Had he really been that predictable? As he thought, he had indeed.

"I'm not sure." he sighed. "I'll be back by morning. Maybe sooner."

Lolita nodded and got into bed. She barely looked at him.

"I love you." Hannibal said, kissing her.

Lolita thought for a moment, considering if he was trying to sucker her into something. "I love you, too."

Then Hannibal left. Lolita sighed and resigned herself to the fact that she'd never be able to get to sleep until Hannibal returned.

Downtown, Hannibal slipped into a small whore house called " The Blue Dragon." The lighting was dim and the whole place smelled of semen and dragon's blood incense that was undoubtedly there to cover the first scent. As Hannibal scanned the room, his eyes were caught on one girl in the blue light. She was slimly built, eerily pale, and a red head or brunette (it was impossible to tell with the lighting). After asking for prices, he and the girl, Lois, went into the back.

As his lustful passions were spent, Hannibal uttered the name of the woman he wished were beneath him rather than the one who was, bringing to the attention of both that Lois was on the job and that they were complete strangers. By midnight, Hannibal was traveling home, the faint scent of the room permeating his clothes.

Hannibal was surprised to find that Lolita was still awake when he returned home. She was in bed, the lights dimmed, but her eyes were wide open, clearly tired.

"Why are you still awake?" He asked gently.

"Because my best pillow and stuffed toy wasn't here." Lolita replied, childishly. Hannibal smiled, changed, and joined his exhausted wife. She immediately snuggled into his shoulder.

"Did you have a good time?" She whispered softly.

"Do you want the truth or what I'm sure you'd rather hear?"

"If I wanted something in particular, I wouldn't have asked."

"Yes, I did." Hannibal sighed.

"Good." Lolita said, stroking Hannibal's chest contentedly.

"You know, most women would be offended by that."

"I'm just glad that there's someone who can service you in the ways you need since I can't do everything."

With that Lolita fell asleep, leaving Hannibal very awake and thinking. Was that the woman he married? Or was it the sixties mentality taking hold?

/"She developed a passive nature as a defense mechanism. To defend herself from harm because she was abused."/ His own observations from years ago echoed in his mind.


	12. Central Park

"Lolita, I've planned a trip to New York. We'll be leaving tomorrow." Hannibal told her.

"So suddenly? When was this decided?" She asked as she stepped into her dress.

Hannibal watched, remembering the skinny sixteen-year-old he had adopted years ago. Of course, Lolita had filled out more since she was eating on a regularly, but she hadn't lost the wonderful porcelain doll quality that Hannibal loved.

"Yes. I figured that you need to get out more. Since New York is a large city, it will be better than being in the middle of a forest like we are here." Lolita nodded, looping her belt.

"And?"

"And what?"

"When did you decide this?"

"...Last night."

Lolita looked up from buckling her shoes, an expression of confusions crossing her fair features.

"Any particular reason?" She pressed, trying to find a real reason.

"I feel bad about leaving you here all of time and when I'm around, you're helping me with patients. I think we need some time to ourselves. Besides, you've never to New York, right?" Lolita nodded. "I think you should experience it."

A week later, when the jet lag started to subside, Hannibal and Lolita began to follow very different schedules. Both were partially nocturnal, but Lolita preferred to go to central park while Hannibal went to small club-like hang outs, carefully scoping for his next potential victim. Neither found harm in it, if one needed the other, they were never more than a half mile from the one in need. It never seemed dangerous.

Then, one night, Hannibal went by the park and told Lolita that he was going back to the hotel early. This left Lolita in the park, watching some children play. It was well past nine o'clock when the last of the children were dragged home by their parents, so Lolita left, too. She walked, though, rather than calling a cab as Hannibal had often told her. She was 21, after all, and the night air was so cool and inviting. Surely, it wouldn't hurt. But it did.

It was well after eleven o'clock when Lolita stumbled in, crying, her dress shredded. She fell onto the bed and slept facing away from Hannibal as she hadn't in nearly five years.

Hannibal had barely felt Lolita come in, but had simply gone back to sleep, thinking many of the sounds were his dream. When he woke in the morning, he was shocked to see Lolita's disheveled state. Gently, he shook her awake. She woke and backed away from his touch.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"He..."

She burst into tears, rambling on and on in incoherent babble.

"Lolita... Lolita!"

She stopped, hearing the demanding tone of Hannibal's slightly raised voice. The two never yelled, so hearing him say something like that made it sound very serious. Almost dangerous.

"Tell me, slowly, what happened."

"I... I was walking back and... a man... dragged me... into an alley...and now..." She looked down at the dirty, bloody hem of her shredded dress. "I'm wrecked... body and soul..."

She had ceased sobbing, but tears streamed freely down her face. Hannibal let her cry on his shoulder, wishing he could find the man who raped her.

Hannibal started to analyze the situation. The man had obviously known what he was doing. He had cut away Lolita's close-fitting clothes without breaking the skin underneath. He had only done the intentional damage to her, never cutting her or shoving her too hard into whatever was in the alleyway. He must have been watching her for days, waiting for her to walk late.

A serial rapist, perhaps? He had obviously done it before and, if they weren't careful, would probably do it again. Hannibal began to realize that finding this man would take time with how he was planning it. Lolita would have to heal first.

With his knowledge of psychiatrics, he knew that the trauma Lolita had suffered would be difficult to calm within a short period of time. To help it along, he tried many techniques (A/N: don't ask me for any in depth info here, Hannibal hasn't disclosed any) to relax her mind. After several weeks of being rather feral and afraid, Lolita was close enough to herself to ask about the plans he had used to assure her.

"I'm going to use a two cat and one mouse technique." He told her.


	13. Revenge

At dusk on October 25, Lolita found herself in central park in a similar situation to the one she had been in the night she was raped. She sat on her bench, reading and watching children slowly being dragged away by their parents. By ten o'clock, everyone was gone, so Lolita followed the familiar route back to the hotel.

Suddenly, she saw a man walking in the night as she was. He had a large, heavily woven tweed coat on and he was walking slowly toward Lolita. She felt her heart begin to race as her mind ran clips of a night all too similar to this one. But she kept walking, thinking, instead, of Hannibal's soft, comforting words. All would be better once she got back.

As the two passed, Lolita started to run. As she had suspected, the man ran after her. She took many unnecessary turns and led them into an alley close to the hotel. As she reached the end of the alley, she threw herself behind some garbage and covered her ears to avoid hearing or seeing what went on beyond the wall of trash.

Just on the other side, Hannibal was busily making mincemeat out of the man. Windpipe, then tongue, then pull from crotch to solar plexus. He used the pocket knife he had acquired from killing Swain to vary his killing, but he wouldn't take any of this man to eat. It would be far too easy to track him if he did.

When the dirty business was done, Hannibal changed his clothes and he and Lolita walked back to the hotel, planning on burning his clothes in their suite's fireplace. They returned in silence and went to bed. Lolita didn't sleep until well into the morning, but reminded herself that they would soon be home and they would leave this whole thing behind them.

A/N: Sorry these last two were so short. I was going to make them one, but I figured it was a little better to take them in smaller steps. Besides, had I mushed it into one, it would have made me ask Hannibal about the explanation and it would have ruined the whole telling of the action. Okay? Sorry.


	14. Mistake or Fortune?

A/N: I'm BACK!!! Sorry for the long delay. I've been MAJORLY busy with school. Ten hours away from home and my precious computer restricts my ability to write. SORRY!

* * *

Lolita and Hannibal left New York without questioning from anyone. No one cared about a man found dead in an alley, anyway. But Lolita couldn't help but worry. She felt like something was off - like there was something waiting around the corner to pull her and Hannibal further apart.

Yet, when they returned home, nothing was out of the ordinary. The house was as tidy as when they left it, England still as beautiful and still as it had been, and the lone swing outside by the forest just as meditative as the calm fog that rose the morning of their return. That was where Hannibal found his wife when he awoke the next morning.

"It's a bit early to be out here by yourself, isn't it?" He asked her. She smiled mysteriously.

"No. I'm not a child anymore, Hannibal. I don't need a chaperone."

"Really? I think you are." He joked. She looked at him, her expression unchanging.

"Just because I'm nine years younger than you doesn't mean I'm a baby. It doesn't mean you can treat me like one either."

She was standing now, one hand resting on his chest, the other curled around the back of the shoulder her head laid on.

"You're awfully affectionate today." Hannibal commented.

"I know. I've made a decision."

"And what's that?"

"I know that what happened in New York is partly my fault. I didn't listen to you and God was getting back at me for refusing you when it's really our duty. Now that I've been taken, I can't say that I'm still clean and, even though I'm still afraid, I'll try to see you. I'll try to see you and not him. I promise." She nuzzled into his chest.

"Lolita..."

"Mm?"

"Are you saying this because you think I'm going to leave you?"

"...No. I just feel like I haven't done much for you. And I love you, I do..."

Chastely, she kissed him and laid back on his shoulder, her arm snaking around his and taking his hand in hers.

"I love you, too."

However good Hannibal felt about Lolita wanting to share their bed in a more intimate way, he still felt like there was something more behind it. True, she was 21 - 22 on October 28 - but her sudden change of heart was, well.. sudden. She had never been one to completely change her mind so quickly. Hannibal was a bit skeptical about some possibly hidden motive, but allowed everything to flow easily as if the two had been sleeping like this since they were married.

* * *

"You are?" Hannibal said in disbelief.

"Yes..." Lolita replied, her brow furrowed. "It was a mistake. We shouldn't have..."

It was confusing news to Hannibal since he had never really wanted a child, but he wasn't so sure now that it was Lolita who was going to have it.

"Do you want it" He asked.

"Do you?" Lolita replied.

She looked sternly into his eyes. The eyes of a woman - a mother. It almost frightened Hannibal. It reminded of his own mother so many years ago. He looked away.

/"If I say no, what will she say...?"/ But the better question was if that "no" would be the truth.

"I'm not sure." He said carefully, glancing up to see her reaction. It didn't change.

"Well, that won't help much. Are we to keep it or not?"

Lolita sank into a chair and placed a protective hand on her stomach which had recently begun to swell. Hannibal sat next to her, grasping Lolita's arm lovingly. This decision would most definitely change everything.

"Hann..." Ah, the nickname was back. Hannibal sighed. "I'm... scared."

"Why?"

"If we have this child, their life will be in our hands. I don't want to mess up their mind..."

"Is that all?"

"Most of it. I don't want to hurt them in a way that can't be healed... like my grandfather did to me."

Hannibal kneeled down and hugged her. "Like I did to you."

"No." She pulled away. "It wasn't you. I've never seen you kill. It was my fault if anyone's. If I had wanted to leave I would have done it the moment I found out."

"I know. And I'm glad for that." He thought for a moment. "What else is there to be afraid of, my love?"

"The pain. I don't know how easy this pregnancy will be, much less the labor."

"I've been told it's worth it."

"We can only hope that's the case."

* * *

The months passed and Lolita's body became more obviously with child. She was tired more often than not, slightly swollen, and her appetite grew. She craved things she had never found palatable and slept more than half the day.

When she was up, however, she was highly active, helping Hannibal with his work and doing some house cleaning. When she was finished or bored, she would go outside and sit on the swing, singing softly to herself.

When the day did come, though, neither Lolita nor Hannibal was completely prepared. Lolita had been out on the swing when the baby first shifted violently into its birthing position.

"Hannibal!" She screamed.

She got back to the house as she could as Hannibal ran to her side. He looked at her knowingly and carried her inside. The hospital was too far to get to, so they had prepared to birth the child in their home. They had set up a cot and piled it with towels so nothing important would get anything on it.

Lolita groaned. This child was NOT waiting for anything or anyone, though the painful labor would go on for nearly eight hours.

Hannibal was having a hard time watching Lolita endure the pain of bearing their child. he was in between being a doctor and being a father. Should he wait attentively as if he saw it everyday or should he pace about the room? After two hours of being on his feet, he settled on pulling a small chair by his wife's side and waiting, holding her hand for support.

Finally, as the eighth hour came to a close, Lolita cried out one last time before the child's head pushed through and the rest of it following. Hannibal quickly cut the now useless lifeline attaching the two, tied it off, and cleared the child's throat. He cringed slightly, waiting for a wail to shake the house, but it never came. There was a pink, wrinkled version of a person, eyes swollen shut for now, moving uncomfortably in the air, but no crying.

/"Yet."/ Hannibal thought as he wrapped his child in blankets and laid it on Lolita's still heaving chest.

"It's a girl." he said softly.

Lolita smiled at him as she tried to prop herself up against the wall. After a moment, she gave up and lifted her new child carefully. She chuckled softly.

"It's just occurred to me that we haven't poured over names yet." She said. But Hannibal was more prepared than he thought.

"What do you think of Amelia?" Hannibal offered.

"...Amelia Lecter..." Lolita let the name roll over in her mouth. "Yes, I think that will do nicely."

"I'll let you pick a middle name so I can fill out the birth certificate." Hannibal said, holding a pen.

"...Victoria. Amelia Victoria."

Hannibal smiled and wrote it down before letting Lolita rest while he cleaned Amelia. As Hannibal held Amelia in his arms in the passing hours, she didn't cry, but did open her eyes. The man was struck by the obviously Lecter blue eyes that stared at him intently from their almost bug-like sockets on the child's sweet face. He smiled at her.

Lolita woke to see her husband smiling at their new child. Silently, she prayed that Amelia would never discover the secrets that her parents held, that she would never know what her father had done, and that she might never ask about her extended family. Yes, in many ways, Amelia's birth would make everything more difficult. How could she possibly be raised by a tormented mother and a murderous father?

She pushed past her thoughts, however, and returned to the blissful oblivion of sleep.

-Owari

* * *

A/N: That's right, ladies and gents! That's the end! But wait, there's more! I JUST started a sequel that I will post almost immediately after this one!!! Please read and review! 


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